


Are you the Sweet Invention of a Lover's Dream?

by nargles_exist



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Innuendo, M/M, Multi, No Smut, Swearing, dumb college boys, hangovers, semi canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nargles_exist/pseuds/nargles_exist
Summary: When he wakes up the morning after a party and finds the man of his dreams gone from his bed, Daichi must trust his friends and housemates to help him find the mysterious stranger. The only problem is: Daichi doesn't remember his name or anything helpful... only that he felt a rare connection. And that is enough to give him the determination he needs to begin his quest.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86
Collections: Daichi Love Fest 2020





	Are you the Sweet Invention of a Lover's Dream?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Daichi Love Fest for Valentine's weekend 2020, but I didn't follow any of the prompts specifically. This idea sprung from the thought, "what about a modern Cinderella story?" but with more drinking and less glass slippers. It's mostly silliness and fluff and college boys being dumb, but I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it!

The door to his bedroom burst open, prompting Daichi to jolt awake and blearily glare at the intruder. It was intruders, in fact, and ordinarily, he could have handled his rowdy housemates and glared them into submission and out of his room… except that he had the hangover to end all hangovers, and he was not actually sure his brain hadn't exploded. Or, more likely, dissolved in the vile mixture of alcohols he had consumed last night. So, he was particularly helpless as two men flopped down onto his bed with zero contrition for the jostling they caused. 

"Daiiiichiiiiii," crooned one. The annoying one. What little bits of brain Daichi had left were plotting vengeance on the crooner, but his body only managed a grunt. "Oh, poor little Dai-chan… how does it feel to be the hungover one while someone lectures you about taking better care of yourself?? Muahahahah!" There was a real hint of delight in the evil laughter. "Vindication!"

"Shut up, Kuroo." That was the other one. Daichi decided that he liked that one better. "We have more important things to talk about. Like, who the fuck did he hook up with?"

"Oooooh, yeah. Who was it?"

"Pft, yeah right," grumbled Daichi. Kuroo was right; he was usually the one who stayed sober and took care of the others (albeit in a somewhat tough love kind of way), and he hadn't dated anyone, casually or otherwise, since high school. He had to admit that the headache was convincing proof that he had overindulged on the drinking, but hooking up with someone he met at a party? Impossible.

Wait. Memories churned unpleasantly in Daichi's decimated mind, and he had the distinct (but blurry) image of pale skin and long limbs against his dark sheets. Did he--? No! But…

Levering himself up onto an elbow, he scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe away all the sleep crusties and all the lingering fuzziness. He peeked under his blanket, heart sinking in dread as he found himself very definitely nude. "Fuck."

"Yeah, that's what we gathered," said Iwaizumi (the less annoying one-- though he was rapidly catching up with Kuroo). " _Who_ did you fuck though?"

Daichi squeezed his eyes shut and fell back into his pillow. "I don't remember."

Spikes of pain shot through his head as his torturers--er, housemates--howled with laughter. "Oh, shut up," he grumbled. "This is not even half as bad as some of the things you idiots have done at a party."

"Yeah, but… this is _you_ ," spluttered Iwaizumi. "And of all the things to do the first time you let loose… it's a doozy."

"You seriously can't remember?" asked Kuroo. 

"Kuroo, I can barely think," said Daichi, his hand over his face. That set the other two off again, with the laughter and the ribbing. "I'm sure I'm much nicer to you when you're hungover," muttered Daichi, not enjoying this role reversal in the slightest. 

"Yeah, _okay_ ," replied Kuroo.

Daichi was spared the necessity of murdering him by a gentle knock on his door and a low voice. "Daichi-san?"

He opened one eye to see Ushijima standing there with a glass of water. He looked just as unpleasantly awake as the other two, but he was less annoying about it. "Come in, Wakatoshi."

"I thought you might need these," said Ushijima, setting the glass of water down on the bedside table, next to some pain killers. 

"Have I ever told you you're my favorite?" asked Daichi, lurching over to get the medicine. 

Ushijima paused, considering. "I don't believe so."

"Well, you are." Daichi swallowed the pills and chugged about two thirds of the water. "Thank you."

"It was no trouble. I hope you recover soon." Nodding at the others, he left without another word. 

Daichi sat up fully, pulling his blanket around his waist in an absurd need to preserve what dignity he had left. He pressed his palm to his forehead and tried to think. What could he remember about last night? He didn't like to lose control, which is why he rarely drank much, and he couldn't stand the idea that he had done things the previous night that he couldn't remember now. 

Okay. It was a party in their house, but that was nothing new. Bokuto had insisted on a Valentine's Day party, even though the actual holiday was not until the following weekend. 'So people can party but also still have their romantic dates,' he had said. The downstairs had all been done up in paper hearts and obnoxious red and pink store-bought decorations. He had come home from his last class and had been assaulted with the task of buying snacks. By the time he had gotten back from the nearest convenience store, there were people everywhere. The snacks had been taken from him, and he had been given a drink. 

Right. And… that's where things started to get fuzzy. The drink had been bright pink and was obviously very strong. He remembered… talking to a few people, acquaintances and friends of friends. He remembered Kenma arguing when others wanted to switch the game to DDR, and then beating everyone anyway. He remembered sitting in an armchair, slightly away from the group and the noise. And then… 

"Oh!" he said, pulling his hand away from his face and looking at the other two again. "He fell on me."

"He what?" 

"Someone knocked into him," said Daichi, trying to pull up more details. "And he… he literally fell into my lap."

"And he never left?" asked Kuroo.

Daichi shot him a look. "No, obviously. He apologized and left… but then came back later. And was talking to me..." He was having a hard time grasping at any threads of their conversation, but he clearly remembered sitting in that chair, with a beautiful stranger perched on the armrest, and looking up at him as they spoke quietly. 

"It wasn't someone you knew?" asked Iwaizumi. "God, Daichi, I can't believe you hooked up with a stranger!" The expression on his face suggested that he was delighted with this particular fact. 

"Shush," demanded Daichi. "I'm trying to think."

He had been a stranger, that was definite, but Daichi remembered feeling very comfortable around him. Part of that may have been the drinking, but he didn't usually strike up conversation with strangers even at parties, so he had a feeling it was just that guy. Daichi was a strong believer in gut feelings, and his gut had told him that the beautiful stranger was someone he wanted to know better. He was kind of shocked with himself for going to bed with him that soon, as he tended to be much more conservative in terms of romance, but the fact was that this mysterious unknown man had been the only one who had tempted Daichi in years. He had been approached several times, but it had never felt right. And even though he couldn't conjure up an image of the man's face now in the sober light of morning, he still felt that it had been right. "I need to figure it out," he said, half to himself. "I have to find him."

"Really??" asked Kuroo, perking up. "You want to see him again? Dai-chan, that's so romantic!"

"Wait, but how is he going to find this guy if he doesn't remember anything useful?" asked Iwaizumi, folding his arms across his chest. 

"We're going to help him!" decided Kuroo. "We've tried to set him up so many times, and this is the only time he's ever shown any interest, so we're _going to_ get him his man."

"Okay, but just being determined is not a plan," pointed out Iwaizumi. 

"Well, he was making out with the guy at a party full of people," said Kuroo. "There must be people who saw and who know who he is."

"Hmm," said Iwaizumi. "Is Kenma here? He's usually good at these kinds of things."

"No," said Kuroo. "He's hungover and definitely not in the mood to help. Bo's cuddling him right now."

They immediately gave up on that tactic. If even _Kuroo_ thought Kenma would be too grumpy, then none of the rest of them wanted to deal with him. 

“Did he give you his number or anything?” asked Iwaizumi, after a moment.

“I don’t remember,” repeated Daichi. He squawked as Iwaizumi grabbed his hand and turned it over this way and that, checking for any ink. The process was repeated on the other side with no success.

“Aha!” exclaimed Kuroo, who was squatting near the desk. He held something up triumphantly. 

“You found his number?” asked Daichi.

“Oh. No.” Kuroo looked slightly chagrined. “But you wore a condom.” He handed the empty wrapper to Daichi, before flopping back onto the desk chair.

“Well, that’s good news,” said Iwaizumi, trying to be optimistic. “At least when you find him, you won’t have to start off with ‘and by the way, I think you gave me chlamydia.’”

“Who has chlamydia?”

The three men turned to the half open doorway, where Bokuto stood, yawning and scratching his bare stomach. He was one of their other housemates, and Daichi supposed that it was too much to ask that his situation could be kept quiet. He wouldn’t be surprised if a barely acquainted classmate asked him about it on Monday. His head was starting to pound again.

“No one, hopefully,” said Kuroo. “Daichi used a condom.”

“With himself?” Bokuto looked confused and not quite awake. His hair was sticking out in tufts--clearly sleep-induced and not the artful twists he did himself. He crossed the room to sit heavily on Kuroo’s lap.

“Oof. No, he met someone at the party and hooked up but didn’t get the guy’s name or number, so we have to help him.” 

Daichi couldn’t decide if Kuroo’s simplified explanation made it sound better or worse. 

“Oh, the pretty one whose face he was sucking?” asked Bo. 

“Did you see him?” asked Daichi, eagerly.

“Hmm. I saw the back of him.” Bokuto put one hand up to stroke his chin, like he was thinking. “He had light colored hair, like blond or white or something, and he was pretty thin.” He paused for a moment and then grinned. “And it looked like his ass was just the right size for Daichi’s hands.”

“Oh, well that settles it,” said Iwaizumi. 

“I am _not_ going around grabbing blond guys’ asses to see how they compare to Bokuto’s memory,” stated Daichi firmly. 

“Well, damn, Daichi,” said Kuroo. “How are you expecting to find a boyfriend if you don’t put in the work?”

“I just want the one guy I had and lost,” said Daichi, very patiently in his own opinion. “And there has to be a better way to find him.”

“Hey, Dai, when did you get this new backpack?” asked Bokuto, bending from his perch on Kuroo to haul a black, nondescript bag out from under the desk. “Fuck, what do you have in it? Rocks?”

“That’s not mine,” said Daichi dismissively. And then he stopped. “Do you think it could be… _his_?”

“There’s only one way to find out!” Iwaizumi said, moving to join the others at the desk. 

“No!” protested Daichi.

All three men turned to look at him. 

“Well, I mean,” said Daichi, shifting uncomfortably. “If it is his, I don’t think I should really be going through his stuff, you know? It’s like… an invasion…”

They stared at him. 

“Didn’t you have your dick in him?” asked Iwaizumi. “And _this_ would be an invasion?”

“I--” Daichi was completely bright red, he knew. “That’s different. Presumably he knew that was happening and was fine with it! I can’t ask him if I can look through his stuff, can I?”

“I’ll do it,” volunteered Bokuto. And before Daichi could protest further, he had dumped out the backpack across the desk.

The three of them immediately started sorting through it, and Daichi couldn’t help but lean closer to see. The defense of ‘it wasn’t actually me that did it’ was pretty weak, but there was clearly no stopping it, so he might as well see if there was any useful information. 

“ _Intro to Psychology… Infant and Toddler Development…_ ” read Kuroo, setting aside two big textbooks. 

“Lots of notes,” added Bokuto, flipping through a notebook. “He must be a good student. And his handwriting is pretty good, too.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Iwaizumi, holding a small notebook--a planner, probably. “We’ve got a name here! Looks like… Sugawara… What is that? Takashi?” he asked, pointing at an unfamiliar kanji. 

“Nah, not together like that,” said Kuroo, glancing over. “I’m not sure what that name is, but this one’s definitely Sugawara. That’s helpful.”

“No number or address, though,” complained Iwaizumi. “Let’s see what his plans are for today.” He flipped through the slim volume. “Oh for-- it’s blank!”

“Wait,” said Kuroo, pointing to the previous day. “It says ‘ _To’s party_ ’ for last night.”

They all looked at each other. 

“Boku _to_?” suggested Kuroo. 

“I don’t know anyone named Sugawara,” protested Bokuto. “Maybe he meant _Te_. That’s you.”

“I don’t know him either. And no one calls me Te.”

“Hmm,” said Iwaizumi, sitting down on the bed again. “None of us are _To_. Is it possible that he came to the wrong party?”

Daichi sighed. “It doesn’t matter. He was there. That just means it’s less likely that one of us knows him. Surely _someone_ we know also knows him. It’s not _that_ big of a campus.”

Kuroo moved closer, looking over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Does it list his other classes in his planner? Maybe one of us is in one with him.” That would have been a good idea, except that Sugawara abbreviated his class names, and they spent a good several minutes arguing over what the abbreviations meant. 

“Whoa,” said Bokuto suddenly. The other three looked at him. He had been sitting at the desk, not involved in the class discussion, and he was staring down in awe at something. 

“What is it?” asked Daichi, a touch of desperation in his voice. 

“A sketchbook,” replied Bokuto. “I dunno who this is, but… damn.” 

Kuroo came up behind him to look at the drawing. He started backwards. “ _Whoa_.”

“Is it him?” asked Daichi, unearthing his pants from under the bed. He yanked them on and dragged himself out of bed to join the others at the desk. 

“No, definitely not.” 

“Maybe that’s To.”

“Shit, I think I’d remember him,” said Bokuto. 

“Weren’t you just making out with Kenma last night?” asked Iwaizumi accusingly. 

“So? We’d make room for him.”

“Let _me_ see,” demanded Daichi irritably. He yanked the sketchbook away from Bokuto and found himself looking at a beautifully drawn portrait of a dark haired young man, and he had to admit that the others were right about his attractiveness. “Fuck,” he said, his heart sinking. “What if he has a boyfriend?”

“Well, then he shouldn’t have slept with you,” replied Iwaizumi. 

Daichi felt a little queasy. “I don’t want to ruin someone’s relationship.” He hadn’t even considered that his mysterious stranger might not be available. And he felt even sicker at the thought of an open relationship like whatever Bokuto, Kuroo, and Kenma had going on. He was pretty traditional; he wanted one partner who only wanted him. And he didn’t want to have to steal him from someone else. 

“You don’t know he’s got a boyfriend,” pointed out Kuroo. “That’s just one drawing.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto piped up. “There’s other drawings of other people, too, not just the hot one.”

Daichi carefully turned the page, finding that Bokuto spoke the truth. There was another portrait, more hurried by the looks of it. It was of someone completely different, with spiked hair and intense eyes. He turned back to the front of the book. “I really don’t think we should be looking at these,” he protested again. But he was already turning the pages slowly, so the others took no notice of him. 

“These… look familiar…” he mused, pausing over some landscape scenes. “I think these are places on campus!”

“Maybe we should find those places… and maybe we’ll find him?” suggested Bokuto, looking up to Kuroo for approval. 

Kuroo shrugged. “It’s the best idea we’ve gotten yet.”

“Right,” said Daichi, shutting the sketchbook with some reluctance. “I’m not going to show up looking like this… in case we do run into him.”

“Meet downstairs in half an hour?” suggested Kuroo.

It turned out to be more like an hour. Daichi had to figure out the right line between looking too eager and looking like he didn’t care at all, which took him several tries. Kenma decided that he was going to join them, as he recognized one of the drawn scenes as the view from his favorite coffee shop, so they had to wait for him to get ready, too. And they were just about to leave when Iwaizumi got a text from an unknown number saying that Oikawa had forgotten his phone there last night and could Iwa-chan bring it to him, pleeeeeease? So Iwaizumi had to go find it, and Daichi was beginning to regret that he had let them be involved at all. 

The group of them trouped across campus, visiting one spot and then another. It was Saturday, and while there were a few classes in session, most students seemed to be staying indoors and out of the chilly February air. They were able to match up the drawings with locations, but there had been no one around to ask about someone named Sugawara. 

Daichi dropped onto a bench and rubbed his hands over his face. “Is this hopeless?” he asked. “Maybe it’s just not fated.”

“We haven’t tried the coffee shop yet,” pointed out Bokuto. 

“I need pie,” agreed Kenma, who was sitting on Bokuto’s lap and wiggling his way into his coat with him. 

“Ugh,” grumbled Iwaizumi, checking his phone again. “Fucking Tooru won’t stop texting me, whining about his phone. I’m going to have to go over there, or else apparently he will _diiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee_.” 

“Isn’t that close to the coffee shop?” asked Kuroo. “Let’s head over that way.”

Daichi sighed and picked up Sugawara’s backpack again. They had brought it along so that they could say they were trying to return it and perhaps look a little less creepy. “Might as well,” he said. 

It was a short walk over to Oikawa’s dormitory. Iwaizumi pressed the button that corresponded to Oikawa’s room number, growling, “I’ve got your stupid phone, so let me up,” when Oikawa responded. Oikawa was gushing his happiness with Iwaizumi, and they were all preoccupied, clustered around the speaker, so only Kenma saw the person exiting the dorm. 

“Whoa,” he breathed. 

He tugged at Bokuto’s hand, and he turned to follow Kenma’s gaze, before tugging on Kuroo as well. “It’s the drawing guy!” he muttered. “He must live here!”

“So maybe Sugawara lives here, too?” asked Kuroo. 

Kenma sighed with dawning clarity. “Or else he knows someone who does. I bet the ‘To’ from the planner is Oikawa Tooru.”

Bokuto and Kuroo had not put these puzzle pieces together yet and stared at each other, flabbergasted, before turning on Kenma. “Of-fucking-course it is,” exclaimed Kuroo. 

“Let’s go,” called Iwaizumi from the doorway. He and Daichi were already inside, and they looked pretty impatient. 

“Daichi, Daichi, guess what!” said Bokuto excitedly, as they hurried inside.

Kenma explained his theory while they rode the elevator to Oikawa’s floor. Daichi stared at him in awe, and Iwaizumi smacked his palm to his forehead. “If you’re right, Kenma,” said Daichi, “then I’m going to owe you big time.”

Kenma shrugged. “You can buy my pie.”

They tumbled out of the elevator and thundered down the hall to group up outside of Oikawa’s room. Iwaizumi and Daichi looked at each other. “Should I knock?” asked Iwaizumi. “Or…?”

“I mean, yeah, you have his phone,” replied Daichi. “I’m just gonna ask him some questions.”

“ _Somebody knock_ ,” demanded Bokuto from behind them. 

Iwaizumi rapped at the door, and a moment later, it was opened by Oikawa. “My phoneeeeeeeeee,” he cried, taking it from Iwaizumi and hugging it close. “You’re the best, Hajime,” he added, leaning in to kiss him. “Oh,” he said, diverting his face at the last second and peering around him. “You didn’t say you brought people.” His expression changed into something more flirtatious. “I could have been naked.”

“But you’re not,” said Iwaizumi. He jerked a thumb towards Daichi. “This is Daichi. He’s on a mission, and maybe you can help.” Nodding behind himself, he added, “These idiots just tagged along.”

Kuroo gasped and covered Kenma’s ears. “And just which of us have been more helpful to Daichi?” he demanded. Bokuto joined in, arguing for their due credit. 

Oikawa was looking at Daichi expectantly, not paying any attention to the others, and Daichi was finding it hard to spit out. Now that it came down to it, he felt weird seeking out his one-night-stand for a possible every-night-forever-stand. His tongue felt heavy and tied in knots. “Um,” he said. “Um.” Then, he remembered the backpack he had slung over his shoulder. He thrust it forward. “Someone left this!”

Surprised, Oikawa took it, looked at it a moment, and then called over his shoulder, “Kou-chan! You left your shit at Hajime’s house!”

Daichi felt like the whole world had narrowed to this doorway and the deafening beat of his own heart. Each second was an eternity as his beautiful stranger came into view from behind Oikawa, and Daichi was thoroughly transfixed. 

The silvery wisps of hair that were pushed back off of his forehead. The delicately shaped brows and large brown eyes. The beauty mark over one high cheekbone. The radiance of his pleased smile as he recognized Daichi… or his backpack. The long limbs and slender frame that put his height around the same as Daichi’s own. The wide-necked t-shirt that hung low over his collarbones and revealed a livid bruise at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Wait.

Daichi stared at the vibrant mark with alarm, barely hearing his stranger greeting him or thanking him for the bag. “Did I do that?” he asked, feeling somewhat uneasy. He could feel the heat flooding his cheeks, and he was sure he was embarrassingly red. 

Of all people, Oikawa took pity on him. “Take me to the café, Iwa-chan,” he whined, draping himself over Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “It’s been a rough morning, and I need coffee.”

“Coffee!” exclaimed Bokuto, immediately turning and abandoning Daichi in favor of liquid sustenance. 

“Pie!” agreed Kenma, joining him and dragging Kuroo along. 

Oikawa slipped past Daichi and gave Sugawara a long look over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall with the others. 

After a pause, Sugawara smiled widely and replied, “Yes, but this is nothing. You should see the fingerprints you left on my hips. Come in, please.”

Daichi shuffled forward and let Sugawara close the door behind him, full of mortification. “I am so sorry,” he blurted. He self-consciously rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “I don’t normally-- er, I mean, it’s obvious that I completely lost control last night, and I would never have done that if I had been sober.”

Sugawara’s bright expression dimmed suddenly. “Oh,” he said, turning away from Daichi. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the first person to have a hook up and wake up with regrets. Thanks for bringing my bag back.”

It took Daichi a moment to process the implication. “No!” he exclaimed, stepping closer.

There was a guarded, wary look to Sugawara as he waited for Daichi to continue.

“I mean,” said Daichi, fumbling for the right words. “I do have regrets, but not… not what you’re thinking. Probably. I, um, I’m not a hook up kind of guy, and well, like I said, I never do that. But I did,” he said, looking up at Sugawara. “Because you were different. I was too drunk to remember a lot of things about last night, but I _do_ remember that I felt like you were interesting and special. So my regrets are that I wasn’t sober enough to properly enjoy our time together. And that I didn’t remember what you talked about, or even your name. And that I didn’t take you to dinner before I took you to bed.”

The light had returned to Sugawara’s incredibly expressive eyes, and he was smiling slightly as he spoke. “It’s Suga. My name is Sugawara Koushi.”

“Oh,” said Daichi, his gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. “Um, I guess I also regret that we looked through your things to try to find you. Cuz… I knew that.”

Suga threw his head back, laughing. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Old-fashioned. I like that.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Daichi, rubbing at the back of his neck again. “But I do feel bad about snooping. I just didn’t know how to find out who you were.”

“You wanted to find me that badly?”

“Yes.”

“And Hajime didn’t have any helpful information?” asked Suga, incredulously. “That asshole, I’ve been Tooru’s roommate for months, and he’s spoken to me _several_ times.” He sighed. “I guess Tooru really is the only person on his radar.”

Daichi laughed. “That is true, but don’t ever tell him I said so.” Iwaizumi would not react well to the idea that he was blind to everything else when Oikawa was around, even though it was obvious to anyone who had ever met them. 

“I’m sorry you had to go to so much trouble,” said Suga, reaching out and taking Daichi’s hand. “But… I’m glad you did.”

Swallowing hard, Daichi tried to pretend that he wasn’t blushing like a preteen getting his first confession, but there was no stopping the way his hand instantly started to sweat. So embarrassing. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be alone in his regression. Suga was shyly looking down at the floor, peeking up at him through his eyelashes. “Me too,” rasped Daichi. And then, remembering his earlier fears, he added, “Are you, um, seeing anyone right now?”

Suga shook his head, biting his lips. It did nothing to stop his growing grin. 

“Would you like to?” he asked. “Me, I mean.” Daichi cleared his throat and started over. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“I would like that very much,” replied Suga. “But…”

Daichi tensed up, fearing what might be coming next. He had no idea what Suga’s objections could be, but how could anything good follow a ‘but’ like that?

“Are you ever going to tell me _your_ name?” asked Suga, brown eyes sparkling. “Or shall I call you Prince Charming?”

“Oh, sorry,” said Daichi, relaxing visibly. “Sawamura Daichi.”

“Hmm, Daichi,” Suga said, trying it out. He stepped even closer, and Daichi was surprised to find that Suga was actually a tiny bit taller than him. “What do your old-fashioned sensibilities say about kissing on dates?” 

His gaze was irresistibly drawn to Suga’s mouth, and he had to croak out the word, as his own mouth was suddenly extremely dry. “Acceptable.” 

“Hmm,” said Suga again, leaning in _so_ close. 

Daichi could feel the warmth of his breath, and his eyes closed in the certainty of an impending kiss. 

It did not come. 

Suga lingered within kissing range, but only whispered, “Then I can’t wait to be on a date.” His voice was full of amusement, and Daichi realized with a jolt that Suga knew exactly what he was doing. Somehow that just increased his interest. 

He opened his eyes to see Suga pulling away until they were an arm’s length apart, still connected by their entwined hands. “What if you took me to lunch instead of dinner?” asked Suga. 

“I’d love to.” Was this what he had felt last night? This feeling that his life was about to be changed irrevocably? Suga was drawing him in like a magnet, and he was offering no resistance. His stomach was fluttering with nerves, but there was an overwhelming sense of exhilaration that drowned out his fear. After possibly the worst morning of his life, he was faced with the prospect of an amazing afternoon. Suga would be there, and there was a strong suggestion of kisses. He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing out loud in his sudden joy.

Suga collected his coat and then tugged Daichi toward the door. “Come on, Daichi. My prince.”

Daichi was quite happy to let Suga lead him. 

Their happily ever after was starting today.


End file.
